Like blind men in the darkgrasping the air for pet birds(who left, desiring spring),his branches erect.Arrayed with bark, coarselike the grooves of my mouthabsent of her tongue.His roots dive deep–six feet deep–breaking the birch boundariesof her innocent grave.He sucks and slurpsher decomposition. nutrients.Now she is fertile. Only to him.

Through his roots up his trunk spewingthrough his branches into his leavesHis envious leaves.No, yellow.No. Red.Brown.In a waste, his demeaning leavesspat to my face.Shotgun. Scatter. to the ground.Where they lie's where I shall diein the cast of his scarlet shadow's sound,

here where I’ve satseasons before his dreaming roots clutched her feeble corpse,waiting for her to break down.